The Vow
by CillaT
Summary: Clint and Natasha have been 'in a relationship' for almost eight months now and are driving home from an exhausting mission. At a red light, Natasha unbuckles her seatbelt to lean over and kiss Clint. At that very moment, a truck rams into their car from behind and she crashes through the windshield. -ON HIATUS-
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, have no affiliation with the Marvel Universe and whatsoever. If I did, there would already be a Clintasha movie out there (how I wish).**

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><p><strong>AN: Hello dearest readers, I've recently reread my story, made some changes to it and hopefully improved it. It's been a while since I first started writing this story and I realised that my style of writing have also changed (hopefully for the better), so I decided to adjust bits in the first few chapters to suit my current writing style. I'm writing this while contemplating how to put together Chapter 7 - just so you know. **

**This is a story inspired by the book and movie 'The Vow'. Without further ado, please enjoy and remember to tell me what you think :)**

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It was just another mission accomplished, and they were driving back to their apartment in the outskirts of New York, both extremely exhausted with their adrenaline wearing off. The night was beautiful, the sky showering down raindrops that sounded like a percussion band as they hit the windows of their car. A beautiful smile had worked itself across her worn out face, a smile that she only ever reserved for him and during intimate moments outside work when there was no one around. It was very late into the night and there weren't any cars on the street except theirs. Neither of them said anything, savouring the night and enjoying the peaceful serenity.

Natasha was the one who broke the silence, 'Have you ever imagined what it would be like if we've never met?' she asked Clint as the car stopped at a red light, only a few streets away from their apartment.

'I would probably be dead,' he replied with a grin, watching her fondly. Part of what he said was true, because since the day he met her, his suicidal thoughts that had followed him since the day his parents died slowly faded away. She was his anchor, the sole reason why he was still alive. Natasha, too eager to get out of her cat suit and perfect that moment, unbuckled her seat belt and leaned in to kiss Clint. At that very moment, a truck rammed into their car from behind and she crashed through the windshield. Both of them were rushed into the emergency room, then immediately transferred to SHIELD's medical department after Coulson received signal. The pair of master assassins was kept in the same room in his order. He knew they would want to see the other when one of them awakes.

Clint was the first to regain consciousness after 48 hours. He blinked his eyes opened, squinting a little from the blinding white light on the ceiling. He had no idea where he was and what happened and frowned, when all of a sudden, memories flooded back into his head – Slovakia, rain, kiss, Natasha, crash. _Natasha_. His eyes flew open at the thought of his partner and sat up looking around for her, then loosened a breath when he saw her lying on the bed next to him. But she was connected with tubes and there were bandages all over her head, arms and body.

'Welcome back, Clint,' he heard a very familiar voice say, and whipped his head back and saw Phil, their handler, sitting on a small black couch looking very tired.

'Natasha,' he croaked out, looking at his handler, 'what happened? Is she okay?'

'Barton, you've been out for 2 days, get some rest first, I'll tell you later,' he said sighing, and then asked the nearest nurse to bring them both a cup of warm water.

'Phil,' Clint said, his voice persistent as if he was warning him. He just tiredly rubbed his eyes, 'you two are going to be the death of me.' He paused, the silence suffocating them, and then continued closing his eyes and facing the ceiling, 'you were driving home, remember? A truck ran into your car. You had your seatbelt on, but she didn't. She flew out of the windshield. You suffered some minor injuries, bruises and cuts but she has some major brain damage. She should be awake in less than 48 hours, but anything can happen. So…just… be careful, okay?' he finished, and sighed again, then left the room.

_Anything can happen. Be careful. Major brain damage. A truck. Flew out. Seat belt. Anything can happen…_

Coulson's words repeated themselves in his mind as he threw himself back down onto the bed with a thump and promptly fell asleep.

_Eight months ago: _

'Screw you, Clint Barton! Stop following me! When I tell you I need space, you better give it to me. I am not some damsel in distress and I don't need a knight in shining armour!' she screamed at him as she threw magazine that lied innocently on a coffee table beside her, he of course, expertly dodged it.

'I just wanted to help you! That bastard's hands were on you! Do you expect me to just sit back and enjoy him touching you while your eyes flashed with anger and annoyance?' He shouted back as he followed her into their small kitchen.

'Fuck you,' she growled, her hands holding the sink so hard it might break anytime, 'I wanted to drink away the shit I just went through and you just gave me more. Fuck you for ruining my fucking life, as if it isn't fucked up enough already.'

He sighed and ran a hand through his ruffled hair. They had just come back to their apartment from SHIELD base after their first failed mission. He had compromised their mission to go after her when she was captured and held hostage in their enemy's underground base. They argued, and she had stomped off telling him to leave her alone, but instead, he followed her into the nearest bar.

_How was it possible to not go after her knowing full well that she was being tortured? He knew emotions had to be kept out of missions, but surely, there had to be exceptions? _Those were what he had in mind when he decided to go after her rather than finishing their mission. When he got to her, she was chained to a wall in a dark and empty room, her head hung down, and blazing red hair forming a curtain in front of her face.

'Whoever the hell you are, I won't give you what you want from me and you will never get it,' she growled, her voice dangerous yet downright sexy.

'Tasha,' he whispered, silently blaming himself for not having gone for her any earlier, any faster, 'Tasha, Tasha, Tasha…'

'Clint?' she called out for him, her voice small and barely audible, raising her head to meet his eyes.

'Oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Tasha…' he said as he tried to break the chain off the wall. His heart ached at what he saw, Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, beat up and battered, so fragile, so brittle.

'Did you get the information?' she asked, still putting their mission before her life. He swallowed hard and shook his head. She wouldn't like it, but he would have regretted his whole life if something happened to her here while he was finishing their mission off and when he could have done something to ease her pain.

'Barton, how could you? There are rules out there!' she raised her voice, almost shouting but too tired to fight anymore.

'How could I leave you here, Natasha? How could I continue the job not caring that my partner,_ my partner _was somewhere being tortured?' he asked, outraged, but she just shook her head.

They got out just in time before the base was blown into pieces by a timed bomb Clint had set when he came in to get his partner out. They got back to SHIELD base by a helicopter Coulson sent, was ordered to go through stupid medical check-ups and went through an intense debrief session with Fury till they were finally allowed to go back to their apartment.

Then she started the argument. It wasn't a first. They had always argued about that topic, but that time, it was too close to home. Natasha was brutally tortured. Their missions never had gone so wrong… or at least never in Natasha's part…

'Look, Natasha, hear me out first then kill me after. I know you hate dealing with emotions, and I have for six damn long years, hid most if not all my emotions from you. I don't want to fuck this up. I don't want to lose you. But I can't go on like this anymore. I have loved you from the first second I laid eyes upon you, I just never truly realised till later on. I tried, I swear I've tried to distract myself from you, look at what happened between me and Bobbi? How silly of me, to think that you would fall in love with someone like me. But I've waited all these years and no, I can't anymore. Natasha I love you okay? I don't think anyone partnering with you for this long won't fall for you. I know, yes, I know that I'm just another man, just another stupid asshole in love with you, in love with an unlovable Russian assassin. I love you and I will turn the earth over if it means I will somehow be enough for you, make the feelings mutual. But no, it will never happen. So fuck me for spilling this out to you all of a sudden,' he ended abruptly, walked out of the kitchen and she heard the door to their apartment slam shut.

He was berating himself for letting his emotions get the better of him in those long suffocating moments between his abrupt confession and suddenly being slammed again the wall of the corridor. Natasha was kissing him hungrily, as if their lives depended on it. It was anything but sweet and romantic, but a mixture of want, and hunger, and anger, and desperation, and the six long years of waiting. It was Clint and Natasha. It was fire and earth. It was glorious. It wasn't their first kiss, they had kissed before, as lovers, as couples, all for covers, but this, this was them, this was Clint and Natasha, the Hawkeye and the Black Widow, partners in crime, SHIELD's best team, a couple of master assassins.

'Damn you Barton,' she hissed, panting for breath as she broke away, her lungs desperate for oxygen. His breathing was ragged too, and he had no idea what was going on in her head right now and he had no idea how to react. She just kissed him. She just kissed him!

'Nat..?' he asked, hesitantly.

'Shut up,' she said and sealed their lips together again, this time, a lot slower, her tongue demanding entrance into his mouth and he obeyed with much pleasure. If that was what she wanted, he had nothing to prevent him on giving it to her. Their tongues intertwined, tasting each other, exploring each other, devouring each other. He moved a hand to the small of her back and the other cupped her face, deepening the kiss. They broke apart for air again, blue and green eyes blazing as they realised what had just happened.

'I guess we're both children,' she said, licking her lips, 'I do too, asshole.'

He watched her intently; still too shocked to respond, did she just admit that she too, felt the same for him in her own awkward and annoying way? Then she grinned at him, and knew he wasn't dreaming.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yay, I got many really nice reviews, thank you so much :) Here's chapter two! Enjoy!**

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_Last time:_

'Nat..?' he asked, hesitantly.

'Shut up,' she said and sealed their lips together again, this time, a lot slower, her tongue demanding entrance into his mouth and he obeyed with much pleasure. If that was what she wanted, he had nothing to prevent him on giving it to her. Their tongues intertwined, tasting each other, exploring each other, devouring each other. He moved a hand to the small of her back and the other cupped her face, deepening the kiss. They broke apart for air again, blue and green eyes blazing as they realised what had just happened.

'I guess we're both children,' she said, licking her lips, 'I do too, asshole.'

He watched her intently; still too shocked to respond, did she just admit that she too, felt the same for him in her own awkward and annoying way? Then she grinned at him, and knew he wasn't dreaming.

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Clint woke up two hours later and went over to Natasha's side, staring at her fragile body. It's not the first time he had seen her look so small and pale, but every time it happened, it felt as if a knife was slowly cutting through his heart. This time was no better. He picked up a magazine from the coffee table nearby, and started reading out loud to her.

Suddenly, she stirred a bit, and his eyes widened in excitement, pressing the button for a nurse immediately. Then her blazing green eyes flew open and a look of confusion swept over her face, then her emotionless mask was back and all he saw was self-defence. He was finally glad she was tied down to the bed, but really, if she wanted to fight, she could break the restraints anytime.

'Where am I?' she grunted, 'and what are you doing to me?'

'Agent Romanoff, you're in SHIELD medical department, you were in a car crash two days ago, everything is alright,' the nurse said. Clint just stared at her. _Coulson said anything can happen._

'How are you feeling?' he asked, his voice carefully toned neutrally.

'I'm fine, doctor, now get me out of here before I burn this place down. My bosses would be very proud of me.' she stated and lied back onto her bed. Her bosses… then reality hit him; she must have lost years of memory…

'Tash-'

'I'm Natalia Romanova,' she growled.

He took a deep breath and continued, 'what date is it?'

'11th November, 2007, but I was out for two days so 13th.'

'Oh God,' he whispered, and the nurse beside him just shook her head.

'Agent Barton, I think it is best for you to leave this room,' she instructed. He wanted to rebel, tell her that Natasha needed him, but she clearly had no intention of making him stay either, so he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

'Clint, anything can happen with the brain,' Coulson said the second he was out of the door.

'She can't remember a fucking thing about us anymore, Coulson! Six fucking years of me trying so hard! She doesn't even remember who the fuck I am and what the fuck SHIELD is! And now we're her enemy!' he screamed, punching the wall so hard that it cracked. Then he started sobbing, 'Phil, six damn long years of trying and I finally have her, but for only eight months, and now I've completely lost her all over again. What is going to become of me?'

'Look, we are finding a way to fix this, okay? Nobody knows what can happen with one's brain, Barton.'

'Agent Coulson, agent Barton, we've just told her the date and that she seems to have lost 8 years of her memory. We are trying to trigger some of them for her. She is in a very emotional state and can be quite – mad, sometimes,' she continued after pausing for a while, 'do be careful, and agent Barton, don't expect too much from her just yet. You're allowed to go in now.'

Clint thanked the nurse and entered the room that suddenly felt too cramped up. He had no idea what to say to her anymore.

'You're telling me I lost 8 years of memory, and that you guys are not my enemies, when the last thing I remember was being sent to kill a target in Moscow, and finishing a bottle of vodka then asking the bartender for more.' She stared blankly at the wall in front of her.

Her red hair was dishevelled, but they looked beautiful, framing her delicate face and features.

'Yes, agent, Barton was sent to kill you, but he gave you a choice and you took his offer to come back to SHIELD with him. It was your own choice. Do you remember anything about meeting him in an alley in Sofia?' Coulson enquired in his professional voice. She shook her head, her short red curls bouncing around her head.

'And look at my disgusting hair style, I never wanted to cut my hair short,' she said, and it almost made Clint chuckle, except he didn't and couldn't because it wasn't his Natasha.

'Natasha-'

'Why do you keep calling me Natasha? I'm Natalia!'

'You changed your name when you came here,' he whispered with defeat, 'I'm Clint Barton, your partner, we have been partnered since the day you decided to come back here with me.'

'I don't work well with partners,' she stated, 'and now I have a new name, how great.'

'Look, Tash- Natalia, think about it, these are all choices you made for yourself, before meeting me. You chose to leave the Red Room, you chose to stop taking freelance jobs, you chose to come here with me,' he said, his voice soft but strained, as if he was going to burst in tears any time.

Natasha was silenced by his words that bore nothing but the truth, and she chose not to comment on the hurt seeping through his voice.

'Barton, we'll do our best to trigger her memory and hopefully bring them back, soon. Romanoff, I take that you will try to cooperate and not fight us?' Coulson asked in a matter-of-fact way. The red head rolled her eyes and nodded. Clint left the room.

He couldn't do it anymore, he had been so close to losing her before, he fought so hard for her, fought so hard for a 'them', and now everything was ruined because of a truck. If that tiny bit of his conscience wasn't still there, he would have gone after that driver and put an end to him already. He basically ruined his whole fucking life.

Coulson brought in photos, recordings and letters for Natasha every day. A week passed, and she still didn't remember anything from the past 8 years of her life. Her 'partner' never came to visit her after the day she first woke up on the hospital bed. She often wondered why and where he was, but she never asked. After all, why should she care? But there was a tugging feeling in her heart that was telling her she should, and that there was more than just being 'partners' between them. Yes, he told her they were partners, but his eyes told a totally different story, as if she was his everything. Certainly it couldn't be true? She would never give herself to a man. No, not after Barnes, she thought.

On the eighth day, a blonde named Pepper went to visit her, bringing her flowers, sounding genuinely concerned and kept on asking if she was okay. She couldn't remember who she was, but she had to force smiles and keep on reassuring her 'friend', though everything screamed not okay. Pepper had brought her news articles about a team called 'The Avengers' that was formed 2 and a half years ago, and apparently, she was one of them and had helped fought off the aliens and a semi-god called Loki.

'You were really distressed when you heard from Phil that Clint was compromised, do you really not remember?' Pepper asked her sadly. Natasha shook her head and asked her what happened in New York, and she told her the whole story. At least all the parts that she was allowed to know.

The day the doctor gave her permission to leave, Pepper insisted on bringing her to Stark Tower, knowing she wouldn't want to go back to Clint and their intimate enough life. 'Is Barton going to be there?' she had asked Pepper, the blonde only shrugged and gave her a sad smile. Some part of Natasha really wanted to see him, but it really wouldn't be a surprise if he had left her already.

On the way there, Pepper kept on blabbering about how excited the team was to hear that she was going there, and mentioned so many names that she didn't even want to keep track of anymore. When they finally arrived Stark Tower in a Tony's black car, the tall and gigantic building gave her a shock. She her mouth fell agape and had to blink twice, before Pepper tugged her into the building then into a very modern elevator.

'Welcome back, agent Romanoff,' a mechanical voice suddenly said. Natasha swore in Russian from the scare, scanned their elevator then stared at Pepper, her green eyes wide with confusion and annoyance, demanding an explanation. She giggled and replied, 'that's Jarvis, Tony's very clever, all-knowing sidekick.'

Then the elevator door opened at level 22 and she heard music, screams and cheers, she smelled food and drinks, she saw balloons, banners, and a crowd. She couldn't recognise any of them, and her head felt like it was about to explode. The past few weeks had made her feel agitated about every little thing, and she really couldn't handle a huge crowd of 'friends' she didn't remember. She looked around with a frown on her face, brows furrowed, trying to concentrate and maybe trigger her memory, searching for something or someone she might remember.

Then there he was, sitting on a tall stool by the bar, holding a glass. He wasn't cheering or anything, just staring at her as if she was a ghost.

Her heart skipped a beat.

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**A/N: Well, well, well, guess who that is? I told you to savour that fluffy and cute moment from last chapter! **

**I'll try work on the next chapter, but my A Level mocks are in a week and I do need to study, so I'll try my best. I hope to see you soon?**

**And please don't forget to review! They make my day 3 **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, I know I'm terrible for not having updated this in like almost two months and I'm really sorry but lots of things have been happening. Well, at least I still sat down and managed to finish a chapter today right? I know this is a bit short but it's all I can do for today and I didn't want to keep you all waiting.**

**Enjoy :)**

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_Last time:_

The day the doctor gave her permission to leave, Pepper insisted on bringing her to Stark Tower, knowing she wouldn't want to go back to Clint and their intimate enough life. 'Is Barton going to be there?' she had asked Pepper, the blonde only shrugged and gave her a sad smile. Some part of Natasha really wanted to see him, but it really wouldn't be a surprise if he had left her already.

On the way there, Pepper kept on blabbering about how excited the team was to hear that she was going there, and mentioned so many names that she didn't even want to keep track of anymore. When they finally arrived Stark Tower in a Tony's black car, the tall and gigantic building gave her a shock. She her mouth fell agape and had to blink twice, before Pepper tugged her into the building then into a very modern elevator.

'Welcome back, agent Romanoff,' a mechanical voice suddenly said. Natasha swore in Russian from the scare, scanned their elevator then stared at Pepper, her green eyes wide with confusion and annoyance, demanding an explanation. She giggled and replied, 'that's Jarvis, Tony's very clever, all-knowing sidekick.'

Then the elevator door opened at level 22 and she heard music, screams and cheers, she smelled food and drinks, she saw balloons, banners, and a crowd. She couldn't recognise any of them, and her head felt like it was about to explode. The past few weeks had made her feel agitated about every little thing, and she really couldn't handle a huge crowd of 'friends' she didn't remember. She looked around with a frown on her face, brows furrowed, trying to concentrate and maybe trigger her memory, searching for something or someone she might remember.

Then there he was, sitting on a tall stool by the bar, holding a glass. He wasn't cheering or anything, just staring at her as if she was a ghost.

Her heart skipped a beat.

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'Barnes,' Natasha muttered and had to calm herself down. When she fully recovered herself from the initial shock, Pepper has already left her and was leaning in for a kiss with a guy. She must have seen that man before, she thought, was it a document among the files when she was hacking the Red Room's computer system? She didn't know what to do, but just stood in front of the closed elevator, taking in the scene.

'Romanoff, welcome back,' a blonde walked towards her smiling. She recognised this man, but she couldn't figure out who he was. She probably saw him in a secured file in the Red Room or something.

'Wait, who are you? And who is that guy kissing Pepper?'

'I'm Steve, Steve Rogers, Captain America. That is Tony, Iron man, the guy with a big red suit,' he answered, attempting to put an arm around shoulder to guide her into the room. She immediately pushed him away.

'Don't touch me,' she threatened. He was obviously shocked, but quickly regained his posture, apologised and backed off.

'Well, well, well, look who's back,' a voice said from behind her. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. 'Do you remember me, Natasha?'

'James,' she hissed in reply.

'So I see you do.'

'How are you here? Aren't you with the KGB too? Weren't we partners? Why am I here?' she asked, her voice solid and persistent, demanding answers.

'Let's get you a drink and we'll talk, shall we?' Natasha groaned and gave him a slight nod. She knew him too well and if she didn't do what he said, she would never get what she wanted. And all she wanted was the truth, why she left the Red Room, why she changed her name and everything, how she became an Avenger and just after all, what happened in the eight years.

After talking about the old times for an hour, most of the team had already left the room. There was still no sign of Clint Barton, and she was feeling a bit light headed from all the shock, so she excused herself.

'You sure you know where your room is?' he called after her. She paused in her steps and didn't reply. 'I'll take that as a no,' he said grinning, then took her by her waist and led her to her room.

'Good night James,' she said as she was closing the door.

'Night, Nat, see you tomorrow.'

Then Natasha took a deep breath and promptly threw herself face-down onto her bed. Everything was so unfamiliar and hard to take in. Nothing seemed real. How could she have possibly joined the Avengers? How could she have possibly teamed up with Hawkeye for six years? How could she have possibly switched sides from the KGB to SHIELD? Everything in her mind was like a tornado, about to sweep everything it went pass into the mess.

The next morning, she awoke with a start to knockings on her door. Her immediate reaction was to search for her weapons, but then everything flooded back to her and she opened the door and met his eyes. Clint.

'Morning Natasha, I brought you breakfast, in case you don't feel like eating with the team.'

'Thanks.'

'Um…so…is there anything else you want? Like a movie or something?'

She crooked one eyebrow in surprise, 'I'm fine.'

'Well, okay then, I'll leave you be then, um…see you around.' He replied as he slowly backed off until he hit the wall. She closed the door, pretending not to see it. She then heard a sigh from the other side of the door. She only started eating when she was sure he was gone. She wanted to ask him where he was the last few weeks, why he didn't talk to her. She wanted to know how working with him was like, and if they were really only 'partners'.

Once she finished eating, she decided to walk around the whole building, and familiarise herself with the place. She went into the lift and asked JARVIS to take her up to the highest floor where she would start her discovery. She stepped out the elevator and the first thing she heard were punches. Hard punches, every hit followed by another in perfect timing, every punch carrying the same strength as the previous ones, then the fall of a punching bag. She walked into the huge room full of punching bags and target boards, where the sound was coming from, and was immediately greeted with a grin.

'Good morning, Natasha,' he said, as he finished hanging up another punching bag and started towards her.

'Morning, James,' she answered without much emotions, feet glued to the ground.

'What can I do for you, my dear?' he asked when they were only a few inches away.

'Nothing, I just wanted to have a look around the tower,' she replied, paused for a while, then added, 'alone.'

'Natasha, you know I didn't have a choice when I left you all those years ago, right?'

'It doesn't really matter now, does it?'

'You forgave me, you understood; we were already friends! We took missions together and hung out together in Stark Tower. That's until you came back with an 8-year memory loss, of course,' he was trying hard not to raise his voice now.

'Are you blaming me for th-' but her angry words were cut off when he suddenly held her face in his palms and kissed her, slowly at first, but all his hunger poured out at once and he bit her lips, his tongue demanding entrance and she could do nothing but give in to his kiss.

That was the moment Clint chose to walk in with his bow and arrows.

Natasha saw him first and immediately broke the kiss.

'Oh, you know, it's alright, I mean sorry…um…I'll just go get a cup of coffee downstairs,' he said and quickly walked out of the room. She turned back and glared at James.

'You haven't changed a bit, dear Natasha,' he grinned again and all she wanted to do was to punch him but was quickly caught up in a kiss again. This time she broke loose from his hold, walked back to the elevator. She had no idea where to go and what to do now.

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**A/N: I hope you liked it, I think there wasn't enough angst but idk. Please review and tell me what you think?**

****And congratulations to the only one who guessed it right, skyfallat221b ;) sorry it isn't Clint guys ;)****

**I hope I get to update soon, but some major exams are coming up so I might not be able to update in months again :/ **

**Love you all x**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: It was my birthday yesterday, so I decided to reward you guys with another chapter to this story, haha :) This isn't long, but I hope it will do for now. My exams are 13 days away and I really need to study so I'm very sorry for the constant pauses in updates on this story :(**

**But meanwhile, enjoy this chapter and do tell me what you think!**

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_Last Time:_

'Natasha, you know I didn't have a choice when I left you all those years ago, right?'

'It doesn't really matter now, does it?'

'You forgave me, you understood; we were already friends! We took missions together and hung out together in Stark Tower. That's until you came back with an 8-year memory loss of course,' he was trying hard not to raise his voice now.

'Are you blaming me for th-' but her angry words were cut off when he suddenly held her face in his palms and kissed her, slowly at first, but all his hunger poured out at once and he bit her lips, his tongue demanding entrance and she could do nothing but give in to his kiss.

That was the moment Clint chose to walk in with his bow and arrows. Natasha saw him first and immediately broke the kiss.

'Oh, you know, it's alright, I mean sorry…um…I'll just go get a cup of coffee downstairs,' he said and quickly walked out of the room. She turned back and glared at James.

'You haven't changed a bit, dear Natasha,' he grinned again and all she wanted to do was to punch him but was quickly caught up in a kiss again. This time she broke loose from his hold, walked back to the elevator. She had no idea where to go and what to do now.

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She went into the elevator and just stood inside, not pressing any buttons and waited for the door to shut.

'What am I supposed to do now?' she muttered to herself not expecting any answer. She felt torn, between what seems right and what _is_ right. She trusts, or at least trusted James, because the memories of their time together as Soviet spies are with her. But Clint Barton, this man with sandy blond hair, blue eyes the colour of swirling ocean currents and calloused fingers, is, or _was_ her partner after her 'defection' to SHIELD.

'Agent Romanoff, if I may be of any assistant, Agent Barton is in the lowest basement level,' the AI said after a minute or so, startling her and she swore under her breath.

'Right,' she said and pressed the lowest level button which says B4.

'I'm afraid you'll still have to walk down a flight of stairs. When you exit the lift, turn left and walk straight, you'll see a fire exit just go through there and you'll see the stairs.'

With that, Natasha waited in silence until the lift stopped and the doors opened, and followed the instructions of the AI without much of a 'thank you'.

As she silently walked down the stairs in complete darkness, she heard consistent whooshes and sounds of something hitting a target board. Arrows. She crept around and stayed hidden behind him, watching him shoot. Nock arrow, raise bow, draw string, shoot; nock arrow, raise bow, draw string, shoot.

The tempo, steady and calm, seemed peaceful, almost, if only it wasn't for his furrowed brows and clenched teeth.

'You don't have to hide, you know.' He suddenly said with a sigh, without turning to her, after she watched him release 30 odd arrows, all hitting the bulls-eyes of different target boards. 'Don't worry, I only knew you were here because of your scent.'

'Natasha, can I ask you something?' he continued without letting her reply, turning on the dim lights and turning to face her. She nodded.

'Would you give him a second chance if you never knew _we_ existed?' he asked after a deep breath.

'I…I don't know…maybe?' she stuttered. _Why was she like that? Natalia Romanova was always composed. Why was she stuttering? Why did she not know how to respond?_ These questions kept echoing in her mind as she replied.

'Okay. That's okay,' he said as he stepped towards her.

'Please don't come near me,' she spat out, immediately tensing up.

'I know you won't hurt me,' he replied, his voice persistent yet soft and full of emotions, while he continued walking towards her.

'You know nothing Clint Barton,' she replied, hissing.

'I do know some things,' he said, softening his voice into nothing but a whisper, 'I know I love you.'

He planted a kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering there for a while as he tried to breathe in her smell that he missed so much and once knew so well. That kiss and the linger sent shivers through her bones. Natasha had to keep chanting to herself that he wasn't an enemy, in order not to fully tense up and go into fighting stance.

'Can I ask you out tonight? We could just grab a few drinks in the bar down the street?' he asked as he stepped away a bit to give her space. _Where we used to go every time a shitty mission is over?_ He left unsaid.

'Okay.' She replied without much thinking.

He smiled. 'Okay.'

She watched him pull out his arrows and then clean them one by one; the silence in the basement was almost serene, if not for the two hearts that were racing so fast as if they were trying to out-beat each other.

'I'll see you at around 7 in the evening then? We can meet outside your room or outside the tower if you like, and then we'll just walk there together, if you don't mind.'

'Sure, at the gate?' He nodded then gave her another small smile that almost made her heart pop out.

There was too much on Clint's mind. He couldn't do much during the waiting time till 7. He tried. He sat at his computer writing out reports that were all due too long ago, it didn't work. He cleaned, counted and recounted and triple-counted all the arrows he had, it, too, didn't work. All that was in his mind was their date. He imagined all the best turnouts: Natasha suddenly remembering everything, Natasha regaining her feelings for him, then all the worst possibilities just so that he wouldn't get his hopes up.

Clint threw on a leather jacket and went to their meeting point 10 minutes before 7. He would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous, the Natasha he was to go out with had no recollection of him, of _them_. He wondered how he would ever be able go back, return to his life before Natasha, if she never returns his feelings again or never regains her memories, after having tasted the smell of freedom – as in, their intimacy, without rules, without boundaries or walls of defences that were set up over the years. He sighed and shook his head to clear his mind when he saw her figure come out of the glass doors. If only all her memories would return in a snap of his fingers, but he swore to himself, that he would turn the seas and earths around just for her to come back to him.

'Hey,' he smiled at her as he took her in. She was in a hoodie, _his_ hoodie, and jeans. Clint felt his breath catch in his throat and fought to contain the smile creeping out onto his lips. The thought that she chose his hoodie out of everything in her wardrobe gave him a slight bit of hope.

'What?' she asked, brows furrowed, when she saw the slight upward turn of his lips.

'Nothing! I'm just… very happy to see you,' he replied a little too quickly. She crooked an eyebrow demanding the truth.

'Okay, fine, you're wearing my hoodie.'

'Oh, I'm sorry, um, do you want me to –'

'No! No, it's okay, you always wear my clothes anyway, I mean you used to, always, yeh…' he trailed of scratching his head and shrugged.

'This was the only thing I felt comfortable in, given that –'

'We don't really know each other and all you have in your wardrobe are tank tops?' He supplied easily, 'Haha, yeh, I know, and as I said it's okay Tash- I mean Natasha.' He quickly corrected and internally scolded himself for the possibility of scaring her away by his forwardness.

That made her raise an eyebrow at him, again, with amusement.

Silence fell between them and Clint gestured to start walking to the bar. She nodded and walked side by side with him, but their hands never touching and their fingers never brushing.

'Have we had sex?' she suddenly asked when they were two minutes away from the bar.

'Oh, um, yes, we have…'

'Always?'

'Um…no, only once, actually, after a screwed up mission, the first one we almost failed. That was two years into our partnership.'

'Tell me about it?'

'The sex?' he asked, shell-shocked.

'No, the mission,' she replied and gave him a small smile. If being dumb means making Natasha smile, Clint Barton would never mind playing dumb his whole life.

'Oh, right,' he said, a blush creeping up to his cheeks but safely hidden by the dark night and dim street lamps. 'We were sent to Berlin to take out the leader of an illegal human-trafficking network. We were somehow found out.' Natasha stopped walking when he reached there. He stopped too, and looked at her gently.

'Do you still want me to continue?' he asked softly. He knew about her past.

'Please,' she murmured.

'We were outnumbered. Bombs started exploding. There were hundreds of girls screaming, everywhere, begging to be let out of their cages, begging for a chance to live. We were too late, only 42 of them survived,' his voice lowering into a whisper when he said the last sentence.

She stared at him, emotions like tornados battling with each other in her emerald eyes. The same ones that pierced into his soul the first time he met her, the pair of eyes that made him make the best decision he had ever made and never regretted in his whole life.

'You're lying to me,' she stated, shaking her head violently.

'Natasha, believe me, please…' his plea was nothing but sincere. She saw heartbreak in his eyes. She saw regret, guilt and most importantly, the truth. He didn't get angry from her accusation, but begged her for understanding and trust.

'Let's keep walking,' she suggested. They didn't talk about that mission again that night.

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**A/N: Well, that's it for now! I'll try my best to update again at the end of this month but it really depends. Thank you for all your support though, and it would be very very very lovely to hear more from you guys!**

**See you soon!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Guys! I'm finally back from the dead! No, I'm not, not really, but I didn't want to keep you all waiting so I forced myself to sit down for a couple hours and finish at least a short chapter.**

**This chapter really isn't much, but I tried and I hope you guys like it! Remember to review after reading it! :) They keep me going :)**

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_Last time:_

'Tell me about it?'

'The sex?' he asked, shell-shocked.

'No, the mission,' she replied and gave him a small smile. If being dumb means making Natasha smile, Clint Barton would never mind playing dumb his whole life.

'Oh, right,' he said, a blush creeping up to his cheeks but safely hidden by the dark night and dim street lamps. 'We were sent to Berlin to take out the leader of an illegal human-trafficking network. We were somehow found out.' Natasha stopped walking when he reached there. He stopped too, and looked at her gently.

'Do you still want me to continue?' he asked softly. He knew about her past.

'Please,' she murmured.

'We were outnumbered. Bombs started exploding. There were hundreds of girls screaming, everywhere, begging to be let out of their cages, begging for a chance to live. We were too late, only 42 of them survived,' his voice lowering into a whisper when he said the last sentence.

She stared at him, emotions like tornados battling with each other in her emerald eyes. The same ones that pierced into his soul the first time he met her, the pair of eyes that made him make the best decision he had ever made and never regretted in his whole life.

'You're lying to me,' she stated, shaking her head violently.

'Natasha, believe me, please…' his plea was nothing but sincere. She saw heartbreak in his eyes. She saw regret, guilt and most importantly, the truth. He didn't get angry from her accusation, but begged her for understanding and trust.

'Let's keep walking,' she suggested. They didn't talk about that mission again that night.

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Natasha was allowed to recuperate for two more weeks 'without any unauthorised disturbance' as instructed by Coulson, which included dates with Clint, drinks with James and late-night blazing loud parties in Stark Tower. The first thing she did when she stepped out of her room again four days after her 'date' with Clint, was to look for James Buchanan Barnes. She wanted to know what exactly happened, she wanted to know the whole story, she wanted to know why she deflected, what happened between James and her, what happened in her 8-year memory gap. And the only way to do this was to ask James. He was the only person she could remotely trust at the moment. She had to at least try. So when James finished weaving up a web of exaggeration and half-lies for her, and she found herself leaning in to kiss him, desperate for some familiar human touch, she didn't pull back at all. And of course, Clint had to choose that moment to walk into the kitchen for coffee, and again, of course, he was so overwhelmed with anger and betrayal that he couldn't control his emotions and had to punch his new teammate, giving him a broken nose.

Natasha couldn't stand staying in Stark Tower anymore, and requested an apartment away from all these people who were driving her mad.

When SHIELD finally allowed Natasha to go back into field, believing that she had been fully recovered albeit her 8-year memory loss, she was sent on a normal and simple mission with Clint to retrieve information from the leader of a drug-dealing company and Coulson was assigned to watch them. Natasha refused to trust Clint during the whole time and didn't want to cooperate at all. All she wanted to do was to use her body, seduce the man, get the information out of him, kill him and leave. It was worse than going back to square one, when she was new in SHIELD.

Clint tried to talk to her, tried to apologise, tried to give her space, to wait her out, but nothing seemed to work. It left him no choice; all he could do was to terminate their partnership.

'If this is going to make Natasha feel better and help her regain control of her life, I'm willing to do it,' he had said to Coulson when he told their handler about his decision, 'You know I'd do anything for her, Phil.' That earned him a pat on the back, an awkward hug and was given some documents for him to sign.

Clint took long solo missions after that. He never really went back to Stark tower, didn't want to face his teammates after what happened. He became more reckless, careless, not even trying the least bit to keep himself alive in dangerous or near-death situations.

After all, what more is there to fight for in his life?

'Jesus! Clint! Do you even care if you die?' Coulson had almost screamed at him in his hospital room. It was his sixth solo mission after terminating his partnership with Natasha. He had been in Seoul for 21 weeks and all he wanted to do was to drink away the agonising pain that was slowly eating away his heart. He was in a terrible hangover state when everything went haywire. And that was the first thing he heard after being in a coma for 2 weeks.

'You know what? Actually, not really. The last thing I thought before the blast was how it would feel like to finally be free from all this… you know, shit.' He then threw his head back hitting the wall really hard and groaned. Coulson shook his head sighed.

'You know I should tell the Council or at least Fury what you said, right?'

'But you won't,' Clint replied, his boyish grin coming back. Coulson heaved out another long sigh.

'I'll have to at least suspend you from missions for a week or two.'

'Yeh… okay… I understand.' The two men stayed silent for a few more minutes, listening to those beeping machines and the clock ticking.

'Did she-'

'No.'

'Oh.'

A pause–

'Did anyone else-'

'No.'

'How long have you-'

'I stayed with you every alternate night and checked on you at least 3 times every day in the mornings.'

Another pause–

'How is she?"

'She's good. She's been training with Barnes and Cap. They just got back from a mission a few days ago. She gets along quite well with Pepper too.'

'Is she-'

_-happy?_

'Yes. Yes. She is, Clint,' Coulson replied with a bittersweet smile.

A pregnant pause–

'Thanks Phil,' Clint said in a defeated tone, eyes downcast.

'Anything. Anything for you, Clint,' he sighed again, then stood up and left the room. He promptly fell back to sleep the second his head hit the pillow. He dreamt of a time he used to know, a time when he wanted to live, a time when there was something to live for, a time when there was _someone _worth fighting for.

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**A/N: Okay, important things first. I've had an AO3 account for quite some time, but haven't posted anything there yet. I'm thinking of reposting all my stories there (or at least this one), and continuing 'The Vow' there too. I'm also dauntlessblackhawk on AO3 so if you want to follow me, go ahead :)**

**I will try my best to update this story this summer but I have lots of other commitments and important deadlines I need to meet so I have to apologise beforehand if I once again keep you guys waiting.**

**Thank you for reading, remember to review and love you lots! xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: My darling readers, I'm so sorry for not updating for so long. Honestly, this last year of college has been crazy and it's only been a bit more than half a month. Anyway, I thought I owe it to you guys for an update, however short and brief. I hope you forgive me and enjoy this chapter? **

**As always, please do review and let me know what you think.**

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_Last time:_

'How is she?"

'She's good. She's been training with Barnes and Cap. They just got back from a mission a few days ago. She gets along quite well with Pepper too.'

'Is she-'

_-happy?_

'Yes. Yes. She is, Clint,' Coulson replied with a bittersweet smile.

A pregnant pause–

'Thanks Phil,' Clint said in a defeated tone, eyes downcast.

'Anything. Anything for you, Clint,' he sighed again, then stood up and left the room. He promptly fell back to sleep the second his head hit the pillow. He dreamt of a time he used to know, a time when he wanted to live, a time when there was something to live for, a time when there was _someone _worth fighting for.

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Clint was let out of the medical bay three days after his conversation with Coulson. No one went to visit him, he doubted if anyone at all knew, or cared. Nightmares slowly crept back to him at night when he slept alone and eventually, he just gave up trying to sleep. They were all the same, about him losing Natasha in every possible way: him killing her in the hellicarrier while under Loki's control, yet knowing that he was the one performing every torturous move, or a hospital fire like the one that took away her parents, or simply reliving the moment she woke up in the hospital without a hint of memory of who he was.

He once woke up still seeing Natasha's green eyes that were draining from colour because of the small pocket knife he was holding that was stuck deep in her heart. Another time, he dreamt of her sitting around a table in Stark Tower (or maybe the Avengers Tower, but what difference does it make? It's Stark's. And to him, he had never felt any strong bond or connection with the group) with everyone else, including James and a few others who had helped 'The Avengers', sneering at him and throwing jokes about him around the table. He knew those dreams were not true, yet still, without Natasha's comforting arms around him when he woke up sweating, he couldn't stop them from getting to him. They were deeply etched in a part of his mind where all his many other insecurities lie.

It wasn't after another six days that he got a message from Coulson.

_Get out of your damn apartment. You stink. See you in HQ tomorrow 0900 sharp._

Clint didn't even bother to reply, just groaned and promptly passed out from the many empty liquor bottles spread out on the floor of his chaotic apartment.

Clint woke up five hours later with a throbbing pain in his head and finally decided to take his first shower since he got up in the hospital from his coma. Shaving off his stubble that have grown a bit too long for his own liking reminded him of those rare days where Natasha was all giddy, touching his cheek then sliding down to his jaw, nibbling and kissing his chin, claiming that she liked it rough, liked him rough. He heaved out a sigh but paused midway as he wondered how many times exactly had he let out that little breath of air in the last few months. Everything, literally everything, reminded him of Natasha. Every song he listens to, every colour around him, every piece of clothing he owns, his mugs, his rug, his pens, couch. Oh look how far you've fallen, Clint. What have you gotten yourself into all those years ago?

Clint reached SHIELD's HQ exactly two minutes before 9am with a mask of indifference and formality screwed perfectly on his face. Anyone walking pass him would never know he was slowly dying inside. Well, except Coulson, Hill and Fury of course. They always managed to see pass his mask. And Natasha too..

His meeting with Fury and Coulson went as smooth as any meeting with him can be, with occasional yelling, arguing, throwing pens and stacks of paper around. He was to stay in HQ to train new recruits as they considered his psychiatric condition to be 'too unstable to be fit for field missions'.

'Won't be might fault if any of those newbies get killed,' he muttered stalking out of the meeting room. He heard Fury's huff of annoyance right before the door closed.

'You need to fix him. He's going to kill himself someday if this continues,' Fury said to Coulson when they were both sure Clint was out of earshot.

'I know, sir, and believe me I've tried. Don't you think I would want to? What he wants and needs is Agent Romanoff, and you and I both know the science research team and also the medics have been trying their best to stir up her memory but to no avail.'

'What else are we supposed to do then? Sit here and watch him slowly commit suicide? From grief? Jesus, that kid is messed up, Coulson.'

Coulson sighed, 'as if I don't already know, sir.'

'Just keep an eye on him.'

'You know I will.' Coulson replied, getting up to leave. If only he knew how to fix Clint.

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**A/N: I know this is short but I tried. Believe me, I really do want to update this story every other week or at least once every month and I will try my best but life happens and things get in the way. For this, I'll need to apologise but I really hope you understand.**

**Please do review and let me know your thoughts :) Constructive criticisms are always grateful. Thank you and hopefully see you sooner!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Again, apologies for the much delayed update. Life has been in the way. I've just reread my story and changed bits of it and have updated the chapters on this site too :) **

**I have also changed the rating to 'M' for this chapter. Just putting it out there, in case.**

**If you recall, I mentioned that the first time the two had sex was after their mission in Berlin. This chapter addresses what happened in a bit more detail. I hope you like this chapter as I certainly enjoyed writing it myself. **

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_Last time: _

His meeting with Fury and Coulson went as smooth as any meeting with him can be, with occasional yelling, arguing, throwing pens and stacks of paper around. He was to stay in HQ to train new recruits as they considered his psychiatric condition to be 'too unstable to be fit for field missions'.

'Won't be might fault if any of those newbies get killed,' he muttered stalking out of the meeting room. He heard Fury's huff of annoyance right before the door closed.

'You need to fix him. He's going to kill himself someday if this continues,' Fury said to Coulson when they were both sure Clint was out of earshot.

'I know, sir, and believe me I've tried. Don't you think I would want to? What he wants and needs is Agent Romanoff, and you and I both know the science research team and also the medics have been trying their best to stir up her memory but to no avail.'

'What else are we supposed to do then? Sit here and watch him slowly commit suicide? From grief? Jesus, that kid is messed up, Coulson.'

Coulson sighed, 'as if I don't already know, sir.'

'Just keep an eye on him.'

'You know I will.' Coulson replied, getting up to leave. If only he knew how to fix Clint.

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'Tasha?'

'Natasha! _Natasha_, wake up!'

'_Natasha_! I'm here! You're okay! It's not real!'

The voice sounded so familiar, so close, yet so fuzzy and distant. Her head was whirling, throbbing, her ribs hurt. She suddenly shot up; eyes wide open, trying to figure out where she was while _his_ voice was soothing her, telling her that she was okay, that everything was alright. She was cradled in his arms. She should have just died in the battle ground. She didn't deserve so many second chances, yet here she was, in the arms of the man who gave her his heart all those years ago – still breathing – still alive.

'Clint,' she whispered, still trying to catch her. Her emerald eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

'Nightmare?' she nodded in answer. He didn't need to ask what it was about. This was their first real rest since being sent on that cursed mission in Berlin. He wasn't even sleeping when he heard her thrashing around, screaming and crying in her room. The screams of those girls were still as real and vivid as four hours ago when Coulson picked them up in his helicopter. No one muttered a word on their way back. Coulson didn't even bother to ask – he saw all that happened. When they reached their apartment, Natasha had been very quiet, refusing to talk to him and excused herself to her bedroom immediately. He knew she needed space. They were too similar in that respect. When he first heard her crying, he had rushed into her room, knowing all too well what to expect.

He raised an arm to brush away some red curls that were irritating her eyes. He slowly leaned down, closing the gap between them and kissed her. They weren't some innocent teenagers, they knew how to kiss and this time it wasn't any different, except the rush of adrenaline soon took over them and the gentle kiss turned heated with urgency. Soon enough, all pieces of clothing were either torn apart or lying uselessly on the cold floor board.

Their first time together wasn't gentle, it wasn't loving, but it was definitely passionate and beautiful. It wasn't a scene from a romantic fairy tale. It was _them_. They were two lost souls who have finally found each other, two hearts that were broken then mended with too many scars coming as one.

When the two have finally recovered from their bliss, still connected and wrapped up contently in each other's arms, Natasha knew that she has found a home in him.

'Wow.'

'That's all you can say?'

'Um, no. Actually, well, I mean I can't believe I even managed one word.'

She smiled a little.

'You okay?' he asked, nudging her shoulder lightly.

'Yeh,' she stared up at him intently, another small smile tugging on her lips. He grinned back and kissed her again.

'I swear I'll never forget tonight,' he said, still grinning like a Cheshire cat.

'Me neither,' she whispered back softly.

'You promise?'

She nodded, 'cross my heart.'

In that moment, she felt like a young teenager, something she had never experienced before – being loved and loving for the first time. So many things have injured them, broken their hearts and spirits, wounded their souls, leaving their hearts overlaid with fibres of mistrust, bitterness and guilt, keeping them from ever risking or reaching out. Yet here they were, lying on her bed naked as the day they were born, completely open, exposed and bare to each other. She felt safe. She was home.

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><p>It was still unsettling to know that she had lost 8 years of memory and little has been recovered since the accident. No trigger seemed to work – photos, video clips, and endless records of factual details. She <em>wanted<em> to remember. She knew that something important must have happened in those 8 years. She _knew_. There was this tugging feeling inside her heart that told her, but there was nothing she can do.

It has been almost two months since she last saw or heard from him. Sure, 'the Avengers' (as they call themselves) always spoke about him in those rare late night hours when they were all off duty, sharing a drink, chatting with each other. Everyone seemed comfortable together in Stark Tower. Even James, she silently mused. She wondered if it was possible that she was ever comfortable with them. Then she wondered if she would ever become as comfortable with them as she knew she had once been.

She often found herself thinking about _him_ and their 'date', when her mind's focus was not required. She thought about the little he had told her about their time together as partners – two years, he had said. They must have been close, or she must have trusted him a lot if their partnership had lasted that long. The only other person whom she was ever partnered with and lasted more than two months was James. And God knows their history was messed up.

She sorely wanted to remember. She has already wrecked her brain multiple times (both metaphorically and literally) but nothing ever came up. Was she to relive the past 8 years again? Was she to forget and ignore the accident ever happened and go about with her life as if something important wasn't missing in her life? She really didn't know.

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**A/N: No, the first part is not a flashback. This chapter is from Natasha's POV while the others have always been mainly from Clint's POV though this whole story is obviously written using subjective omniscient narrative. **

**I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and please do leave a review and tell me what you think about it. They really do encourage me to write more and update sooner :)**


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